I worked hard to keep my emotions to myself as her house manager, Reginald, pushed the rest of us out of her room so she could rest. I saw his pinched face and the roll of his eyes at us, which I didn't think was necessary, but that must be part of his charm, because gratitude to him was written all over her face.
I played my part of the good mate, winking at her before I went into my room like I was oblivious. I stepped inside and it was like being transported to my own kind of pleasure hut. The mood of the whole room was dark and sensual. The walls were painted in a deep plum; the bed was a garnet red that went with the gold touches throughout the space. A gold lamp on the nightstand, the mirror across the room was gold trimmed, and the chocolate brown furniture had gold handles. This room was everything that I didn't know I wanted. It felt like Hell was trying to be a matchmaker by tying her to us and making the house more accepting of her mates and their tastes, and I was all for it.
I whispered into the air, “Keep it up. Between the both of us, we can break her.” I swear I heard giggles leave my room, but I could’ve also been imagining it.
I decided to check out what was behind all the doors to find where everything was. I also wanted to make sure I was not sharing a bathroom with my heathen brothers, D or War. Since I'd lived with them all my life, I knew their disgusting habits. They refused to keep up a nice bathroom, and I would hate to have to dismember one of them for not cleaning out the shower after they'd finished or using all the toilet paper without putting a new one on the roll. I shivered at the thought. Fucking heathens.
Before I could really make myself at home, I went to inspect the dressers and closet to see if I had enough room for all my stuff. My mouth dropped open when I found all of my stuff already here. I started to look around the space in each drawer, and they were all full—full of my stuff from our home. Even my damn laptop was sitting on the desk on its charger. What the heck? How the fuck?
I popped my head through the door I hadn’t checked yet, hoping that this would lead to the main hallway, and it did. As soon as I did, Reginald was there with his signature scowl.
“Is there something I can help you with,sir?” I thought I detected some attitude at the end of that.
I nodded. “Yes, I would like to know how all my stuff was already brought here. It's not like I told you where we lived.” We also had wards placed around the house, very powerful wards that should've made it impossible to get through.
“His Majesty, Lucifer, told me. He also sent all your stuff to the holding room here, and it looks like the house knew which items belonged to whom.” His comment had a slightly condescending tone to it, like I was an idiot. But I wasn’t going to complain about something that was meant to make us more comfortable.
“Well, since you are a wealth of information, how ‘bout you tell us what is going on with Lillian?” Fame’s cold tone barked out.
I glanced up and Reginald looked over his shoulder at Fame, who was leaning in his doorway across from mine. I couldn't help but peek into his room. It had a lot of dark walnut wood paneling with steel gray bedding and olive-green accents. I strained my neck to look around him and saw a study, almost like the one at home but upgraded.
I was impressed with how perfect these rooms were for us.
Before Reginald could answer Fame, War slammed his door open to my left and demanded, “What is wrong with my little goddess?”
Then, diagonally across from me, D's door opened as he waltzed out like he hadn't a care in the world, flipping his hand in the air as he rolled his eyes. “I'm sure she's fine. She’s just collecting all her excuses for what happened, not wanting to explain herself to us.”
I felt my fingers twitch as my anger rose. If that stupid fucking idiot would take that fat head out of his ass for one second, he would realize that she wasn't doing that. Even Fame glared at him. My anger cooled, and a smug smile crossed my lips. Oh, she was wearing Fame down. Now we just had to get dickhole here to not be such a…a… dickhole!
Reginald turned slowly to face D. I expected some dull, drawn-out excuse for her, but instead, his voice burned with rage.
“So you are the fucking idiotic piece of shit of the group. I will make note of the mate who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about what Her Majesty has gone through. That she just taxed herself and her magic in order to make you fucking comfortable. That she walked with all four of you through the seven circles of Hell so that you could get a lay of the land since you will be living here. Did you know she could've just winked here and left you all in the dirt? She could've given you the hard lesson in Hell and left you to your own devices. Left you to handle the princes on your own. And just so you know, they arenotnice to strangers, none of them are.
“She did all this even after you forced her into the one place she wasn't ready to return to. I'm sure she expended a lot of energy and power to avoid being taken over the portal line while you were fighting. Which just means that when she made you yourcustomrooms, she was already low on power… But, no. It seems pretty on par for a piece of shit like you to continue to complain about her needing a few minutes to recuperate for what I’m now sure is going to be a difficult conversation with a difficult group of men, who will all gang up on her for something that was out of her control. Yes, whatamazingmates you are.”
I could visibly see each cut his words inflicted on D as his puffed-up chest deflated and his shoulders slumped as he leaned against the wall next to his door.
Fame took that moment to clarify. “Not all of us feel the way D does.”
His withering glare was aimed at D, but D was looking at his shoes, so he didn't see it.
Reginald was still sending laser beam eyes at D, but he nodded, letting Fame know he heard him. That gave me an idea. Maybe something that could help us with the surly house manager. I had a feeling life would be a lot easier if he was on our side.
I took a step forward and implored him with my eyes, trying to show my sincerity. “Is there any way for us to help her?”
He took an exaggerated deep breath, making it obvious that it was either hard for him to extinguish his anger at D or he was just fed up with us, but I didn't care. He could be mister grumpy all he wanted; I still wanted to know the answer.
He turned towards me, anger still in his eyes, but at least it had less of an I'm-going-to-kill-you-in-your-sleep vibe. “Of course there is, but now that I have met you”—he turned to glare at D—“I'm not confident that it would be something she would want.”
He left that out there, I think to test us, and before any of us could contradict him, D spoke up.
“Just let us know, and we’ll do what we can.” It wasn't a profession of undying love and loyalty that I'm sure Reginald wanted to hear, but for D, that was a step in the right direction.
Reginald's gaze flicked to her closed door with apologetic eyes before he walked to the end of the hallway. The clicking of his black dress shoes was the only response until he turned on his heel and faced all of us.
He tilted his head up, looking down at us before he answered in his droll tone. “She's part demon. She needs power. How do demons get power?”
Of course, Fame concentrated on the boring part. “What do you mean, part?”
